Page 30 of Colton's Secret Weapon
He knew it would fade. Kansas had called in again to let him know there were still no signs of Bob St. James, nor did they have any viable leads. Which meant they were forced to take each road, each trail, each overhang one at a time. Her team would be at it again at first light.
“Kirk is just what St. James Boats needed!” Dove continued to gush. “And the idea you two came up with, him captainingWicked Winningsthree times a week to bring in a serious catch to sell, providing fresh halibut and salmon for the grocery store and for The Cove, too, is brilliant. The cash flow from that alone will be a boon. Dad’s only been in the boat rental business for others to fish for sport and recreation, but making fish a part of our business is just the step we need, and now with Kirk onboard, we can actually implement the idea.”
“We still have to talk to the businesses to see if they’ll buy whatWicked Winningsbrings in,” he warned, trying to let her down easy before he got to the tough stuff.
“Even if they don’t go for it, you know locals will come down to the dock to buy fresh catch less expensively, and it’s pretty much a given, with the discount you suggested, that the grocery store and The Cove will be on board.”
“There will be an initial investment,” he warned as he turned to head them out of town. “More insurance, for one thing. And means and protocol for proper handling and storage of the fish. Pricing structures. Packaging.”
Nodding, Dove turned to look at him. “What’s bothering you?”
It was unsettling how much time the woman spent reading his moods. But in the moment, she helped him get where he had to go. “There’s no sign of your father yet.”
She nodded. “I figured. You got two calls while we were at the marina. If either of them had been good news, you’d have told me.”
So…all her purported happiness about Kirk had just been…fake? Avoidance? A cover-up for what she didn’t want to see?
“The second call was from Welding. Someone’s been keeping an eye on your place today. Mrs. Bentley called in to report the same car parked down the street, saying she saw an individual wearing a baseball cap in the driver’s seat with binoculars pointed toward your house. She didn’t get a license plate, and by the time patrol got there, the car was gone.”
Mrs. Bentley, the retired English teacher both Mitchell and Dove had had in high school. The longtime widow had been the only upper-class English teacher during the years both of them had been in school.
Dove’s response was a little slower in coming. He was prepared for tears again, when he got, “Which explains why I was guided to stay at your place.” And then, ”Or why you were prompted to invite me to stay.”
“Dammit, Dove, this is serious.” Mitchell calmed his tone, some, but not the frustration warring with compassion inside him. “Your life could be in danger. Judging from the break-in at Namaste, your property most definitely is. You can’t just brush this all off and breeze by it, hoping it will go away.”
He’d pulled into his driveway. Slid into the garage in total silence. Wishing he hadn’t had to quiet her chatter but encouraged, too. He had to know that she was going to watch herback every second until the police found enough proof to be able to arrest Brad Fletcher.
When he put the car in Park and turned to look at her, she stared right back, saying, “You think that’s what I’m doing? Running? Pretending? Avoiding?”
Softening his tone at the obvious disappointment in her eyes, he said, “Your father’s missing, I’m telling you your house is a target, and all you want to talk about is spirit guides and their promptings. Where were they when your father either strayed off or was hauled off his path?”
The question seemed kind of cruel. Heartless. And yet, if it got her to take the situation more seriously and saved her life, then he’d appear to be as heartless as it took. No way he was going to stand by and watch the woman fall into more pain.
Her gaze didn’t falter. Her hand seemed perfectly steady as she lifted it to push a lock of wavy hair over her shoulder. “I was talking about intuition, Mitchell. As in listening to it. Your brain, in conjunction with your heart, collaborating between what you know, what you believe and what you want, to best guide you.”
He’d been put in his place. Succinctly. Firmly. Kindly.
By a petite yoga instructor who’d shown up that morning dressed like a sexy purple daffodil in revealing Lycra and some kind of netted long tutu thing.
A woman who solved her issues by sitting on the floor, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
Not a solution that would work in court.
Mentally framing his sincere apology, Mitchell was interrupted when Dove said, “As for the rest of it… I can panic, shiver in fear, as I was doing earlier, my initial reaction to a change in my circumstances. And if I continue to do that, I play right into the hands and intentions of whoever is trying to inflict evil on me. My best shot at winning in this showdown is to remain calm. Lucid. And the way to do that is to not let the feartake hold. You prevent that from happening by focusing on good thoughts, which perpetuate good feeling, which lessens fear’s ability to take you over. And for the science to back me up, since you seem to respond better to what you can have visible proof of, look upserotonin. See where that leads you.”
Wow. The woman should be a prosecutor. A defense attorney. Or…just who she was.
“You’ve got some in your body, in case you didn’t know.”
His body. The words, coming at him in the dark, from the lips of the oddest and possibly the most fascinating creature he’d ever met, had a wrong effect on him.
Sending him into inappropriate waters.
Clinging to shore with everything he had, Mitchell said, “In the first place, I apologize. In the second, thank you.”
She shook her head. “What are you thanking me for?”
“Setting me straight.” That wasn’t right. Wasn’t enough. He revised with, “Reminding me that my perspective is not the only valid one on earth.”
